


Beginnings

by DarkxPrince



Series: Amidst the Shadows [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dunmer - Freeform, female dunmer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 19:24:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7451128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkxPrince/pseuds/DarkxPrince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Events are set in motion to start Charlya on her path to being the Dragonborn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginnings

The first thing she became aware of was the splitting headache which pounded away at her skull. The second thing she was aware of was an insatiable need to feed and quench her thirst. Clenching her eyes tight, she resisted the urge to hiss as the smell of human blood assaulted her, clamping her hand over her mouth and hunching over. By Azura, how long had she been out? Didn’t matter, she supposed, if she didn’t control her urges … didn’t control the bloodlust which threatened to overwhelm her … she would only end up doing something she’d regret. Giving into the bloodlust now would only get her killed, especially since she could feel her hands bound together and the steady rocking of a wagon beneath her.

“Hey, are you alright, dark elf?” she glanced up briefly to meet the gaze of a blond haired Nord, his hands bound just like hers. Not trusting her voice at the moment, she merely nodded, lowering her hands and straightening up. She took the time to briefly glance around, there were two other prisoners; one was dressed in ragged clothes, probably a thief, and the other … _“_ _Shit,_ _”_ she thought to herself. The last prisoner’s clothing was finer, obviously he had been someone wealthy, perhaps even a Jarl, though he was gagged as well as bound. “So, were you trying to cross the border? Didn’t see the Imperial ambush just like us … and the thief,” the Nord who spoke earlier said.

She resisted the urge to hiss again, she actually had seen the ambush. In fact, she had planned on using the chaos of the ambush to feed on one of the soldiers. Clearly that had not gone as planned since she was now a captive of the Empire. “Damn Stormcloaks,” the thief finally spoke up, “The Empire was lazy before you came along. I would have been able to steal that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell by now.” The thief turned his attention to her, “Dark elf, we shouldn’t be here. We’re not the ones that the Empire wants, it’s these rebels.”

She remained quiet, merely closing her eyes and trying to tune out the conversation that the prisoners were having. Apparently the last prisoner – turns out she was right, he was a Jarl and not just any Jarl – was the Jarl of Windhelm, which made him Ulfric Stormcloak the leader of the rebellion in Skyrim. She sighed quietly, if the leader had been captured, then there was surely only one destination that awaited them now … Sovngarde. She shook her head, chuckling softly to herself, these _Nords_ may have Sovngarde waiting for them but she had an eternity of torment within an Oblivion plane waiting for her. She breathed in deeply, barely restraining herself from having one last meal before … “The headsman is waiting, General Tullius, sir!” one of the Imperial soldiers shouted. She frowned; well there was no question of what was going to happen now … not that she was surprised.

She opened her eyes when she felt the wagon stop, rising to her feet and stepping off. The other prisoners stepped toward the executioner’s block when their name was called. All except the thief, who decided to try to run … and was promptly filled with arrows from Imperial Archers. “Wait, you, dark elf,” the Imperial soldier who had been calling the names said, “What’s your name?”

“Charlya,” she muttered, keeping her head tilted down so they couldn’t see her face.

“Another refugee then? The gods really have abandoned your people, dark elf,” the soldier said, “Captain, what should we do? She’s not on the list.”

The Imperial captain merely grunted, “She goes to the block with the rest of them.”

As Charlya turned to follow the captain, she heard the other soldier say, “I’m sorry. I’ll make sure that your bones are returned to Morrowind.” She chuckled to herself, there wouldn’t be any bones left once she was dead. All that would remain of her would be ashes, and then no one would give a damn about her remains.

She looked up into the sky as she stood with the other prisoners before the executioner’s block, feeling the sun beat down on her. Normally she would curse the sun, as a vampire it constantly burned her skin, harmless but endlessly irritating. She had found it curious that she didn’t turn into a pile of ash when she stepped out into the sun like so many other Vampires. She had seen so many careless Vampires burn to ash in the sunlight. So what set her apart from them? Had there been something different about the Vampire that had turned her? Had she been blessed – cursed? – with the ability to resist the sun? Did the Divines have plans for her or did the Daedra need a new source of entertainment? She didn’t know, but it certainly made it easier for her to hide. Regardless, it was the last chance she’d have to experience the feeling of the sun, and for good or ill she would savor it.

In the background, Tullius was addressing Ulfric, not that she cared about what was being said. The Civil War had never been a concern for her, though truthfully she hadn’t really been in Skyrim long enough to truly pick a side. She had been more concerned with hiding her Vampiric nature and just trying to survive. She did find it odd, though, that the Empire was going to kill Ulfric. Sure it would demoralize the rebels, send them into disarray without their leader. Yet it was just as likely that they would create a martyr and send even more Nords flocking to the Stormcloak banner. This was either a very smart move on Tullius’ part or a very idiotic decision. Of course, it was just as likely that Tullius was being pressured into this course of action by the Thalmor. This did nothing to dislodge the appearance of Tullius being a Thalmor puppet. She wondered silently if Tullius truly was with the Thalmor or if he was just buying time and waiting to turn against them.

Charlya tuned out the Priest of Arkay who was giving last rites, instead giving a silent prayer to Azura, the Daedric Prince of Dawn and Dusk. She had never believed in the Nine Divines. Like all her ancestors before her, Charlya worshipped Azura. This was why the banning of Talos worship never bothered her. There were plenty of reasons that she would be arrested by the Thalmor, Daedra worship and Vampirism chief among them. Never mind the fact that Azura is considered one of the only “good” Daedra, and yes, many of the other Daedric Princes are evil. Besides, many citizens thought that she was evil merely because she was a Vampire, so why should she be bothered with worshiping something else that was considered evil. Even if she did believe in the Nine Divines, none of them had a right to her soul when she died. Long ago, she had often prayed to be taken to Moonshadow, Azura’s plane within Oblivion … then she became a Vampire and all that changed.

The smell of freshly split blood assaulted her senses and she knew the first prisoner had been killed. She grit her teeth, willing herself to remain calm and not feed on the corpse like some animal. “Dark elf, you’re next!” the Imperial captain said, breaking Charlya from her thoughts. Something sounded in the distance, something eerily similar to a roar, though everyone ignored it, “I said … next … prisoner!”

Charlya calmly walked over, trying to keep some shred of dignity as she knelt and placed her head on the block, staring up at the executioner. She prayed one last time for Azura to take her soul, knowing that it wouldn’t matter but she might as well hope. It was strange, though, she knew her end was near, yet she wasn’t fearful. She knew what afterlife awaited her, eternal servitude in Coldharbour, and she expected to be anxious, even downright terrified to meet it so soon. Yet there was only calm instead of the raging inferno of emotions that she expected. That same roar from earlier sounded again, though this time it was closer and then something flew over the mountains. It was large and winged and black and it landed atop the tower behind the executioner. The beast roared and fire rained down upon them.

The force of the dragon’s attack, for what else could the beast be, threw Charlya from the block and she hit the ground hard. Her vision was blurry, and even through the ringing in her ears she could hear the screams as people ran. Someone pulled her to her feet and dragged her along; Charlya stumbled along unable to keep her balance. She nearly tumbled to the ground as whoever held her pushed her into a nearby tower. She shook her head, finally dispelling the blurriness of her vision and the ringing in her ears, only to be pushed up the stairs of the tower, “Come on, we need to escape,” a Nord said from behind her.  Before they could even take two steps up the stairs, the dragon burst through the wall of the second landing. The beast unleashed its fire, killing those unfortunate enough to be there and flying off to continue its rampage.

Charlya jumped through the hole the dragon had created, her supernatural reflexes easily carrying her to the building across the way. Unfortunately with her hands still bound she couldn’t maintain her balance and stumbled to the ground, rolling along the floor. Falling through a hole in the floor Charlya screamed as she crashed to the ground below. Coughing she hastily picked herself up, running out of the building and into an Imperial soldier, “Still alive are you?” That was the voice of the Imperial who had been calling names before the dragon attacked and everything went to hell. “Come on, stay with me if you want to keep it that way!” Once again Charlya found herself being dragged along, barely staying on her feet.

The Imperial pressed her up against a wall, covering her body with his as the dragon landed above them. “ _Yol_ … _Toor_ … _Shul_!” She must have hit her head harder than she thought, there was no way the dragon spoke – shouted – before the flames burst from its maw. They ran as the dragon took to the sky again, barely making it to the town’s keep.

“Out of my way, Hadvar!” someone shouted as they ran past, “We’re getting out of here!”

“Fine you bloody Stormcloak traitor! I hope the dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!” The Imperial, Hadvar, shouted as he ran to the Keep’s entrance, “Come on, dark elf!” Charlya glanced at the Nord rebels who ran past, briefly entertaining the idea of escaping with them instead. It really didn’t matter who she escaped with, to be truthful. It wasn’t like one increased the chances of survival over the other one. And it wasn’t like she was going to join their side in the Civil War when this was all over. She heard the dragon roar overhead, ducking her head down and muttering under her breath even as she followed Hadvar into the keep.

Charlya slumped forward, trying to catch her breath as the Keep’s doors slammed shut, grateful for the small reprieve. She didn’t even look up when Hadvar cut her loose, merely rubbing her wrists as he suggested looking for some spare armor. Glancing around, she noted that they were the only ones there and discreetly licked her lips. She was extremely weakened, after not having fed in gods only knew how long, and if she drained Hadvar of his blood then she’d be stronger than she was now. She shook her head, ironically Hadvar was one of the only reasons she was still alive. If nothing else, she owed him for that and wouldn’t feed on him no matter how hungry she was. Instead, she set about searching the room, finding a full set of Imperial light armor in a chest. She quickly discarded the ragged clothes she had been wearing, not caring about Hadvar watching her, and tugged on the armor she found. Charlya picked up an iron sword which hung on a weapons rack, frowning as she gave it a few test swings. It had been awhile since she used a sword instead of a dagger; still, it was better than no weapon.

Nodding at Hadvar, the two moved out into the hallway, hugging the wall and remaining as silent as possible. They paused at the gate to the next room, hearing voices on the other side, “Stormcloaks,” Hadvar muttered, “Maybe they won’t attack us.”

Charlya grunted in response, not believing that even though there was a dragon attacking that the Stormcloaks would just help two Imperials. Well, one Imperial and an escaped prisoner, but since Charlya was wearing Imperial armor the Stormcloaks would only see two enemy soldiers. Instead, she crouched low as Hadvar moved into the room, making sure to stay in the shadows and keeping the entire room in her field of vision. Predictably, the Stormcloaks took one look at Hadvar and sprang to attack him, drawing their weapons and charging. Charlya was the first to react, leaping from her hiding place and burying her sword in the chest of one Stormcloak. Before the other Stormcloak could react, she withdrew her blade and spun, cutting at the legs of the Stormcloak soldier. His tendons severed, the Stormcloak dropped to the ground as Hadvar advance to deal the final blow.

“No! Wait!” Charlya yelled, grabbing Hadvar’s arm before he could strike, “Don’t kill him, I need …” she snapped her mouth shut before she said anything further, mentally cursing for nearly giving herself away. The short and brief battle had set her Vampiric urges ablaze, the sweet aroma of freshly spilt blood overwhelming her senses. She needed to feed; otherwise she really would tear into Hadvar and drain him dry. She had to think of a reason for not killing the Stormcloak without giving her Vampirism away and she also needed to get the Imperial away so she could feed. “Scout ahead, I … I might be able to get some information out of him.”

Hadvar merely gave her a skeptical look, and for several seconds Charlya thought he wouldn’t listen to her. “Make it fast,” he said, moving toward another gate and stepping into the passageway, “We don’t have a lot of time.”

When Hadvar was out sight, the Dunmer vampire turned her attention back to the Stormcloak soldier, who had managed to push himself up against the wall. Sheathing her sword as she walked over to him, she straddled his waist, making sure to pin his arms to his sides. “I don’t know what you plan, Imperial,” the Stormcloak spat, “But you’re not getting anything out of me.”

Charlya grinned, purposefully revealing one of her fangs, outright laughing when the Stormcloak’s eyes widened in fear. She clamped her hand over the soldier’s mouth before he could scream, wrenching his head to the side and exposing his neck. She sank her fangs into the Stormcloak, moaning in pure bliss as the fresh blood flooded into her mouth. Knowing she didn’t have the time to properly savor her meal, Charlya gulped down mouthfuls and quickly drained the soldier under her. Rising to her feet, Charlya licked the blood off her fangs, feeling reenergized and stronger than she had felt in days. She wasn’t at full strength yet and would require a few more feedings before she was. However, she wasn’t suffering from blood-starvation and had full control over her urges. Now, at least, she wouldn’t fly into a mindless rage and slaughter everyone in her path to get at some blood.

The ground shook as the dragon roared outside, and she could hear the distinct sound of stone falling as part of the building collapsed. She rushed out of the passageway, meeting up with Hadvar further down. The Imperial was crouched next to a door which had been lucky enough not to be affected by the collapse, and she crouched down on the opposite side of the door. They inched the door open, being as silent as possible as they heard more Stormcloaks within. Creeping along Charlya snuck up on an unaware Stormcloak, in one smooth motion she clamped her hand over the Stormcloak’s mouth and plunged her blade through his chest. She gently lowered the corpse to the floor and withdrew her sword, readying to pounce on the other soldier. Within moments there was another dead Stormcloak soldier, and she and Hadvar were rummaging through some crates searching for any supplies. Finding only a few potions, they continued further down into the keep, coming to what Charlya assumed was the torture room.

Predictably there were more Stormcloaks down here, though the Imperial torturer was doing a fine job of fending them off. With the Stormcloaks’ attention on the torturer, it was a simple matter for Charlya to sneak up on them and stab them in the back. While Hadvar talked with the Imperial torturer, Charlya took the time to look around the room. Pocketing some gold coins just lying there, she picked up an iron dagger, twirling it around a few times to test it. The dagger was heavier than what she was used to. Still, she felt more comfortable with a dagger in her hand instead of a sword. There were also some empty alchemist bottles that she could use and if she was lucky … perfect! Hadvar and the torturer were arguing about something and not paying attention to her. She grabbed the two dead Stormcloaks and dragged the corpses over to the alchemist station, making sure to stay out of sight. She sank her fangs into the neck of one of the corpses, gulping down mouthfuls and draining the body dry.

She had always despised feeding on dead people; the blood always tasted off and left a bitter taste in her mouth. Besides, she wasn’t some common animal that fed on anything that it could. Unfortunately, she really didn’t have much choice at the moment. She’d rather feed and regain her strength, than take the chance of not being able to find someone for days. She had already made that mistake once and she had no plans of making it again. Charlya wiped her mouth clean, now she really didn’t care if both Imperials discovered her vampirism. Even with the torturer’s magic and Hadvar’s obvious skill, they were no match for her now that she was fully recovered. Still though, the Imperials had their uses and there was no need to discard them or purposefully reveal her Vampirism. Doing her level best to ignore that _off_ taste lingering in her mouth, she discarded the corpse she just fed from. Gripping the arm of the other corpse, Charlya slit the wrist and held it over one of the alchemist bottles. Once the bottles were full of blood, she stashed them in an empty rucksack and slung it over her shoulder.

Charlya rolled her eyes as she and Hadvar continued on without the Imperial torturer. If the fool didn’t believe them about the dragon and wanted to risk his life, that was his problem not theirs. She nearly sighed when the next room they came to was, once again, filled with Stormcloaks. Motioning Hadvar to stay put, Charlya crept into the room, sticking to the shadows and readying her newly found dagger. One by one, she snuck up on each of the Stormcloaks and slit their throat, dragging the corpse into the shadows to hide it. Once she was done, Charlya motioned for Hadvar to join her as she looted the bodies. Finding a bow and a quiver full of arrows she fastened them to her back, as they made their way into the underground tunnels beneath the keep. At least it appeared that there were no more Stormcloaks to fight, the tunnels just might be … great, _webs_ … which could only mean the tunnels were infested by giant Frostbite Spiders. She _hated_ Frostbite Spiders. Though the spiders where generally easier to kill, all it took was a well-placed arrow, their numbers sometimes made killing them quickly difficult.

It was a small consolation that between her and Hadvar the spiders fell quickly to bow and blade. Luckily there were fewer Frostbite Spiders than she first thought, and they continued through the tunnels unimpeded. The smell of fresh air assaulted her enhanced senses long before the exit to the tunnels could be seen. Charlya cringed as the familiar sensation of the burning sun hit her, raising her hand to cover her eyes. She could barely see the black dragon flying off into the distance, its roar echoing around her. She wondered if this was only the beginning.


End file.
